Rainy Day Technique
by Napolean
Summary: A world that no one understands, a war waged on whim, and the lives of social misfits that must band together to fight for what's right. Too bad no one really knows what that is. [Dark Fic] Misunderstandings anticipated.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own anything relating to Harry Potter. Quit rubbing it in, already.

**Rainy-Day Technique**

**Prelude**

The life of a Death Eater was a painful one, and Draco Malfoy was finding that out the hard way. It was endless work, and always left him mentally, physically, and magically drained to the point of exhaustion. He couldn't recall the number of 'tasks' he'd been ordered to complete by the Dark Lord, but he did know that if he were to accept too many more, he'd end up lying dead in a ditch somewhere.

A Malfoy was not made for hard labor, and the only benefits that Draco could think of, when it came to the constant work, were the muscle pains in strange places he'd never thought of toning. He could feel himself slowly being molded out of his prestigious life and into the life of a fighter. The knowledge that he was working for the food he ate, the bed he slept in, and the money he spent, kept him going strong. He was suddenly beginning to learn the true meaning of a 'job well done'.

Draco was an extremely wanted man, and not in the way that he'd been wanted back in his school days. The Ministry of Magic was after his head for his assassination attempt on Albus Dumbledore, and the Dark Lord was constantly at him for the failure.

In his time spent on the run from the Ministry, before the Dark Lord brought him back under his wing and protection, Draco had been made to leave his vanity behind. The 'good looking' and 'charming' Draco Malfoy that he'd always known himself to be was a thing of the past. His own reflection had been a shock, when he was first brought into Headquarters.

Looking into the mirror, he'd marveled at the man staring back at him. His stoic and structured build was an intimidating one to behold; quite different from his once-lanky appearance. His eyes were a steely unforgiving gray, and the storm raging behind them made him look years older than he truly was. Hiding out in the Tuscan countryside had done much for his ghostly complexion, and had turned his platinum locks into more of a golden-blond.

He was no longer the deathly pale and gaunt-looking boy that he'd been in his Hogwarts days. He'd passed several of his old schoolmates in Diagon Alley, and they'd not even thought to give him a second glance. It was degrading as well as glorifying.

Draco hadn't been received as well as he'd have expected from his allies and fellow Death Eaters. Most of them resented him for returning into the Dark Lord's good graces after such a complete failure. The thought that the Dark Lord still favored him after all of his treachery, simply pissed them off.

Among Death Eaters, Draco had no friends. Pansy Parkinson had long given up hope on courting him and had moved onto Blaise Zabini, who was previously his best friend and now hated him for the things Pansy lied about.

He was less than shocked to find out that Gregory Goyle and Vincent Crabbe had perished in the attack on Hogwarts. They'd never been all that bright, especially when it came to keeping themselves alive.

If he'd ever really had a choice, Draco doubted that he would have chosen to follow in his father's footsteps and become a Death Eater. If he had any control over his destiny, he probably would have become a Historian of the Dark Arts. As interested as he was in the Dark Arts, he'd rather have simply learned about them and researched them, than to commit them himself.

The Dark Lord had offered Draco the Imperial suite at Headquarters, but he had graciously refused, explaining that he would have no use for such spaciousness or amenities. Instead, he opted for a smaller suite with a good view.

Lying lazily on his small cot, Draco's eyes surveyed the coast, watching the dark heavy waves crash against the rocks into a white foam and spill back into the ocean. It was a beautiful sight to see, and he savored it as such; appreciating the fact that he was able to witness such beauty in small occurrences after all the wrongs he'd done.

A hesitant knock sounded on his bedroom door, and Draco rose to answer it, nervous that it may be a messenger from the Dark Lord with another task for him. He was shocked at the sight of Neville Longbottom standing bloody and broken before him, tears pouring from his eyes.

"Err-what're you doing here?"

Neville's big brown eyes closed in on his own gray ones, recognition setting in, and he looked just as shocked to see him. "The Death Eaters… they told me you'd help me." He said in a strong voice that Draco did not recognize from their school days.

An eyebrow rose on his forehead, and he shook his head. With a sigh, he stood to the side and opened his door wider, granting the ex-Gryffindor entrance to his room.

Neville sighed, walking into the room and sitting down unceremoniously onto his bed. Draco nodded slightly, urging him to continue when he shut the door.

"I was traveling through the forbidden forest a few nights ago… under a full moon." He sighed with a frown. Biting his lip nervously, Neville pushed a few extra long strands of hair away from his neck and moved his collar low enough to reveal a rather large bite mark where his neck met his shoulder. "I was attacked to say the least."

"Werewolf?"

He nodded. "It seems that the Order isn't as friendly to my kind since Dumbledore's death. Ironically, it was Bill Weasley who denied my joining."

"So, instead of leaving the war to begin a new life… you sought out the Order's enemies to join their ranks and get back at them for denying you your one way of avenging your parents deaths?"

Neville nodded again, looking uncomfortable. "The way you put it makes it sound so terrible."

Draco grinned slightly, shaking his head. "Don't worry about it, Longbottom. I completely understand where you're coming from… I've been in nearly the same position. Unfortunately, I doubt that it'll be easy to convince the Dark Lord of your allegiance. If we find any evidence whatsoever that you're truly a spy for the Order, you will be killed instantly; without question or proof."

"I want to see them all die at my hand." Neville whispered hoarsely. "Ever since I can remember, you've all held me back, telling me that I couldn't handle the situation! I won't take it anymore, Malfoy. This tourment has gone on long enough; I'm not the same stupid boy I once was. There's a beast in me now, and it wants revenge; I'll do anything to get it."

He leaned back in his chair, slightly uncomfortable at the small distance between the two men. "You do realize that many of the people from school who tortured you are here under the Dark Lord's protection… including me."

Neville smirked, an expression that looked most foreign to his chubby face. "What my enemies did to me in school doesn't matter, so much as what the people who were supposed to be my friends did. At least it was expected from you and your cronies."

Draco gave him a stony-eyed glare. "I can offer you no protection here, Longbottom. My safety is granted only by the mere interest of Voldemort himself. If not for him, I'd have been off-ed quite a while ago. The Death Eaters are no longer my allies, and I work alone… anything that they choose to do to you here, I cannot prevent."

"I did not expect you to be as kind as you have… if kind is the right word; hospitable may be more fitting. All that I can really ask of you is your friendship and allegiance as another misfit, Draco."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"What are you working on?" Neville asked, peering down over Draco's shoulder at the book the blond was reading intently. "You're learning to become an animagus?" he sounded fascinated.

Draco sighed in frustration, slamming the book shut and causing the larger man to jump back, startled. "Researching it…" He cleared his throat, as Neville sat down, and sized the boy up. "You'd be a dog, I think."

He shrugged, laughing it off. "Probably, although there's not really a point for me to learn-I'm already a half-dog, as it is."

The leaner boy smiled briefly, an actual smile, something he'd not been able to afford in the Dark Lord's custody until then. It felt good to smile. "All the signs for me point to fox, despite what our peers may thing… although a white fox would look quite out-of-place among its peers as well. Makes sense..."

"You must have had it just as bad as I did…" Neville muttered, taking pity in his new friend.

Draco quickly shook his head, "Not quite, at least not until recently. Up until my failure at killing Dumbledore, I was treated more fairly than anyone else here. I was the favorite before my father was sent to Azkaban Prison."

"That's funny, because I always thought you were the deprived one… I mean, Harry and I both had to grow up without parents, and the Weasleys had to live without the comfort of wealth-"

"You're mistaken. I had both wealth _and_ my parents."

Neville bit his lip for a moment, trying to decide if what he was thinking was the best thing to say at the time. "Well… forgive me if this sounds awful, but I'd rather have grown up with no parents at all than parents that would sacrifice me to the Dark Lord at the first chance they got."

Draco glared, "Don't pretend to know me, Longbottom. My parents were there for me when I needed them to be; they did what was right by them. This war is all a matter of points-of-view."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Draco shot strait up in bed, slapping a sweating hand against his the burning flesh of his Dark Mark. He mentally cursed himself for adding to the already immense pain, as he was taken by the overwhelming force of apparating. He'd never particularly enjoyed apparating. It sent a weird chill down his spine and left him winded… then again, the only times he ever apparated was to reach the Dark Lord and it was possible that it was his presence, rather than the apparating in itself, that gave him the sick feeling.

He cleared his throat, and opened his eyes to glance up briefly at his master, before giving him a low bow. "My lord…" he was surprised at the strength he heard in own voice, due to the weak feeling that was flooding his body.

"Young Master Malfoy, it has come to my attention that you have befriended our newest recruit..." Draco nodded, keeping his gaze low and cast away from the Dark Lord's face in respect. "It has also been reported that Mr. Longbottom showed quite a bit of talent for Herbology in his Hogwarts days. Is this true?"

"Yes, my Lord." Draco answered with a curt nod. "Got a perfect score on his OWLS and NEWTS in that course, I believe."

The Dark Lord cleared his rasping voice, settling into his large throne-like chair. "Good. Perhaps he can find a place here after all…"

He nodded, trying stop himself from shuddering at the sound of his voice. Draco tried not to be afraid; fear fed Voldemort's power. "Yes, my Lord."

"Hmmm…" the Dark Lord mumbled. Something strangely familiar began prickling at the back of Draco's neck, and he sighed. It was a mind-probe. Voldemort was searching for something. At last, when Draco was sure that he must have searched every inch of his soul, Voldemort nodded. "Bring the boy!" he shouted to some random guard.

Draco was startled by the sound of a heavy door swinging on its bolts. He lifted his head to see Neville Longbottom scurry into the room. Neville dropped to his knees at the Dark Lord's feet, completely baffled at his presence. He did not say a word or make a sound.

Draco understood, as he was sure the Dark Lord must have as well. By merely being in the same room as Voldemort, Neville had already completed a large part of his revenge. By the way his body shook, Draco could tell that it was taking all that the boy had, not to curse the Dark Lord into oblivion and take the purest form of revenge he could possibly get his hands on.

A small smile curled on the Dark Lord's lips, and he cleared his throat again. "Your impurities will be pardoned in exchange for your loyalty, Mr. Longbottom. A suite next to Mr. Malfoy's has been prepared for you."

Neville's chubby body shook from body-wracking sobs. "Thank you for your kindness and hospitality."

The Dark Lord nodded, "Do not fret, dear boy, it is the least that I can do to make amends for your parents' unfortunate… incidence with my Death Eaters."

He remained on the floor next to Draco, breathing heavily, but did not say another word to the Dark Lord.

"I've got a task that needs to be handled with much delicacy... delicacy most of my Death Eaters would not be able to handle. I've elected you two for the job, as the latest recruits, and the recruits with the most to lose. If you two screw this up, it'll be your heads."

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

"Well at least he gets right to the point…" Draco mumbled to himself, leaving the room about five minutes later with Neville at his side. "I hate it when he's vague, though. Giving us options on things we haven't the foggiest clue on how to execute is one of the worst things I can think of him doing."

Neville shrugged, as they made their way to the library. "I doubt it'll be easy. She was trained to avoid people that might want to hurt her, and I'd hate to be on the receiving end of her bat-bogey hex."

"Believe me, it's not fun."

He laughed, "I suppose it's not completely impossible. Seriously, it's not like I announced to the entire Wizarding World that I was becoming a Death Eater. She doesn't know… I could easily gain her trust. It can't be _that_ hard, we were good friends back at Hogwarts."

Draco sighed, pushing the door open and leading him over to the table in the furthest corner from the door. "Still, she must be bound to someone who is here willingly, unless you plan to actually attempt at convincing her to come willingly. She most certainly knows about you being a werewolf, and I doubt that her brother has kept your not being a part of the order a secret from his family. You're probably on her list of people not to trust by now, Longbottom."

"You can't hope to court her, can you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow at the lack of change in Draco's expression. "It's preposterous, the mere thought. She hates you and has all her life. You can't expect some bleeding-heart story to change her mind about the way she feels about you, she's not like all the fools at the Ministry."

He shrugged, "You haven't heard me being persuasive." Neville nervously glanced around at the other Death Eaters conversing around them. "They can't hear you… if anyone's snooping about, we're talking about books, gibberish, really."

"That girl's trouble, she could kill you if she wanted to."

Draco gave him a blank look, "I'm a Malfoy, a Death Eater, and partially responsible for Dumbledore's death. Who's to say that she doesn't want to already?"

"No one, that's what I've been trying to say! Going after her would be foolish."

"It's half your job to think up the plan, Longbottom, so I'd stop criticizing and start planning, if I were you." Draco hissed, shoving a book his direction. "I want you shift-shaping into a dog within the next two weeks, got it?"

Neville's jaw dropped, and he eyed the thick leather-bound book resting on the table in front of him. "You have _got_ to be kidding me! I've heard that learning to be an animagus takes a normal wizard at least six months!"

Draco laughed incredulously, "Tsk tsk, Neville. You've got to stop calling yourself normal. You're a Death Eater, soon to have the mark on your arm. For once in your life, Neville Longbottom, you are part of the elite."

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**Author Note**: Hey everyone! I'm back. Well, not really. I don't intend on writing anything else on any of my other stories for a while, and can't guarantee that this'll be updated anytime soon. School's a priority now. -.-


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